A Twist in Fate
by Lulubird
Summary: Fate draws Jason and Medea together across mountains and deserts, anger and betrayal, loyalty and love. Their fates are entwined and they are powerless to fight it.
1. Chapter 1

**Besieged by the Colchean Army, Pasiphae at their lead, Atlantis suffers the fury of an unnatural tempest. Jason, leading the Atlantean Army, rides to meet his enemy for their final battle. The Gods must have been with him for the Colchean Army is destroyed in lightning and thunder, left in smoldering ruins. Pasiphae flees for her life and Jason vows to destroy her. He thinks his destiny is determined but the Gods have other ideas**.

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Once again he could not bring himself to end her life. He stood amid the burning ruins of Pasiphae's camp, dead Colcheans scattering the bloodied earth, and stared down at Medea. Her chest rose and fell only barely. Even in the violet light of dawn he could see her skin was pale, her lips an unnatural shade of blue. In his hand, his sword hummed with unfulfilled potential. He moved it in the air across her defenseless body but knew he would not be able to lower the blade to her skin.

"You cannot kill her," a familiar voice commented from behind. Hercules came to stand beside Jason, the loathing evident on his face as he too stared down at the Colchean princess. "Despite everything she has done, you still cannot kill her."

Jason did not need to reply. Above him, the billowing clouds rumbled with dying thunder. The storm that had almost obliterated Atlantis was fading fast. As he reached his senses towards the woman at his feet, he knew it was because of her.

"She is fading with the storm," he commented.

Just as he could feel the power of the wind weaken against his skin and hear the strength of the thunder diminish, he could sense Medea's own power flickering deep within her body.

"Do you mean to tell me she caused this?" Hercules said, his tone equal admiration and disgust. "I know she is a powerful witch but…" he waved his hand at the city behind them. Her walls were crumbling, her buildings broken, her streets awash. For three days she had suffered the fiercest tempest in memory as hail, torrents and gales battered her.

Jason crouched down beside Medea, his eyes running over her features, familiar yet so foreign. He wished he could articulate what he felt when he looked at her.

"If she cast the storm," Pythagoras murmured, materializing out of the smoke. "Then it must have near exhausted her magic." He glanced at the witch with slightly more sympathy than Hercules.

"We leave her then," Hercules spat. "It would not be you that ended her, Jason."

Even as he said it, surely he knew Jason could not do such a thing. Without answering, Jason sheathed his sword and reached down. Hercules sighed as Jason stumbled to standing, Medea lifeless in his arms.

"We take her with us," he said simply. "It is for Ariadne to decide."

"That witch has nine lives," Hercules muttered darkly, but he followed his friend through the smoldering tents towards the city of Atlantis.

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 **A/N: Thanks for reading. Everything is written for this story so there will be regular updates of this story.**

 **Please consider leaving a review to let me know what you think or feel.**

 **XxX Lu**


	2. Chapter 2

It was deep into the night by the time Jason was able to look for Ariadne. Running a hand through his still-wet hair, he scoured the throne room for her.

"She is inspecting the prisoners down in the cells," a guard informed him intuitively from the doorway. His dark eyes followed Jason as he strode from the room without a word.

The cells were full of Colchean soldiers that had survived the ravaging of their army. As he passed the clusters of miserable men, he knew without asking where he would find Ariadne. She stood in a circle of flame-light that made her skin glow and her dark eyes, as they turned towards him briefly, shine with life. He joined her before the bars and followed her gaze into the cell where Medea was still unconscious.

"You spared her life," Ariadne said her voice soft but heavy. She swallowed and Jason could sense her hurt. She had born the physical pain of Medea's betrayal and her city was crumbling and crying because of her attack. Sensing further, Jason suspected Ariadne knew that something had passed between them and, even if she could not name the power that existed between them, she could not deny it any more than he.

"I could not kill her in cold blood," he murmured. His eyes ran over Medea, seeking a sign of life. "And I could not leave her to die."

"She means something to you?" Ariadne asked painfully, turning fully to face Jason. He turned too, meeting eyes gleaming with hurt. He wished he could lie to her, dismiss Medea as nothing. But he loved and respected her too much to let the lie pass his lips. It defied all logic, the inexplicable pull he felt towards the Colchean princess, but it drew his gaze back to her again and again. And it meant that, even when he was staring at Ariadne, there was a part of his mind wondering where Medea was. He hated it. But it was only growing stronger and he could no longer deny it. Just as the Oracle and the Grey Sisters had predicted.

His silence was answer enough for Ariadne. Dropping her head to hide the tears that fell, her heart broke before him.

"Ariadne..." he murmured helplessly, reaching to caress her arm. She slipped from his grasp like silk and his chest tightened painfully.

"I will send a healer from the temple," the Queen said, her voice thick with unshed tears. She would not meet his eyes as she backed away from the cell.

Jason's whole body seared with the pain in her voice and the knowledge that, despite her agony and her hatred for Medea, she would do that for him. He did not deserve her.

As her footsteps retreated down the corridor, Jason turned back to the cell. He could not untangle the emotions that twisted and tightened inside his chest: his love for Ariadne; his desire for Medea; his duty to Atlantis; his connection to the Gods.

His head hurt and his chest ached. He wished that for once the will of the Gods would be clear and uncomplicated. With a sigh, he leaned is forehead against the coolness of the iron bars. He could not hope for answers from the Gods, he knew that much.

 **A/N: Thanks for the review! This story takes place as an alternative ending to season 2. Instead of Pasiphae retaking Atlantis, her attack fails. Jason relinquishes the throne to Ariadne. Hope you like this chapter. - Lu**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews guys, really appreciate hearing that people are reading the story.**

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Jason stood behind the healer while she muttered words in strange language. Briefly it crossed his mind that the healer could just as easily be drawing the last of life from Medea and he would be none the wiser, but just as quickly he dismissed the thought. Ariadne would not betray her word.

At last the healer rose to her feet, her old bones cracking. She met Jason's eyes with thinly veiled scorn.

"The Colchean will live," she said in a voice that revealed she would not have saved Medea's life for anyone less than the Queen. With a sweep of her robe she left the cell. The guard paused but Jason signaled for him to close the cell door. He crouched down on the hard rock, prepared to wait.

The noises of dawn could be heard drifting from the city outside by the time Medea stirred. Jason stretched his back, stiff from the hard floor and the chill of night that seeped through the stone walls.

Gingerly he crawled the short distance to where Medea lay on her side, the slight twitch of her fingers the only sign that she was regaining consciousness. As his eyes settled on her face, Jason once again found himself captured by a feeling that defied words. Since the first time they had met, Medea had insisted they were drawn to each other. He had denied it to her, to Pasiphae and most of all to himself, but his strength for denial was waning. He felt as if he had known Medea, a relative stranger, his entire life. Of perhaps that he had known her in a previous life.

Even before her eyelids flickered open, he felt he could describe the exact pattern of green flecks in her hazel eyes. He studied her intently as she slowly returned to waking, watched as the fog of dreams lifted from her eyes and the world around her came into focus. Her gaze settled first on the rocky floor and he watched confusion flicker across her face, before her eyes lifted and she noticed his close presence.

Her reaction caused his heart to pound. She shot into sitting, pushing herself away from him in such a panic that he withdrew instantly, startled by the severity of her reaction. With great effort, Medea pulled herself up against the wall and leveled a suspicious gaze on Jason.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, her voice hoarse. He watched her gaze flicker around the cell, taking in the door, the guard, the small barred window. She reminded him of a wild animal, cornered.

"You're in Atlantis," he replied gently, shifting forward again. He halted when she tensed, her eyes snapping to his. Gingerly he reached to his belt and freed his flask. He held it across the void between them, an offering. "You must be thirsty?"

Medea eyed the flask but did not move. After a long silence, Jason drew a mouthful of water and swallowed, raising his eyebrows at her. "See? Just water."

Only then did she take the flask. Their fingers touched against the worn leather and he felt a jolt of electricity soar up his arm. In a flash he felt a swirl of darkness, terror and grief, betrayal and weakness. He looked at Medea and knew she'd felt his invasion into her mind.

"When I found you in Pasiphae's camp, you were all but dead," he said, struggling to maintain an even tone. "Ariadne had one of the temple healers attend you."

"Why would Ariadne help _me_?" Medea shot, her eyes blazing. Jason held his breath but the fire vanished in a heartbeat and he could tell it had cost her what little strength she had. Gasping for breath she steadied herself against the wall. Jason moved forward, an instinctive hand moving to her shoulder. He could feel her trembling.

"Because I asked her to," he replied softly. Their eyes met and there, again, was the shockwave of connection.

Medea rested her head back against the rocks. Her eyes were weary.

"Pasiphae left me?" she murmured, instantly transformed into a hurt and lonely child. Jason wished that the others could see Medea in these moments, as he had in the necropolis and the woods, in the moments that he knew there was more to her than being Pasiphae's vessel. Hercules could not see past fear of her power, Ariadne could not see past anger of her betrayal, but in these moments he could see the frightened little girl that was curled inside Medea's shell, the little girl craving affection and praise, terrified of every shadow and every angry word.

Carefully, as if he was afraid to scare her, he reached out a hand and brushed the hair from her face. Closing her eyes, she leaned into his touch.

"Why did you cast the storm? Surely you knew it could kill you?"

Medea's eyes flickered as she looked away.

"I hoped it would," she said, her voice low and dark.

"Why?" Jason demanded, surprised at the surge of emotion within himself at the thought. "Why would you?"

Medea ignored him. "What will they do with me?" she asked in a tired voice, sounding as if she didn't much care what Jason's answer would be.

He frowned. "I don't know. Ariadne must decide."

Medea closed her eyes. "I am dead then."

Jason had the urge to defend Ariadne, but he wasn't sure whether it was from love or desperate hope that Medea was wrong. He ran his fingers lightly down Medea's cheek, rousing her. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and met his.

"She would not have saved you only to see you die," he said. He did not add that she only saved Medea because of him.

"If she does not, there are many more who would," she replied without emotion. He recalled her words in the necropolis. _People fear me_.

"You should rest," he said. "Regain your strength."

"Then they will surely have to kill me," she murmured, but she closed her eyes again, clearly exhausted from their brief conversation.

"Here," Jason said. He shifted until his back was against the wall, and gently pulled Medea until she was resting against his chest. She gazed up at him with apprehension. He knew what she was thinking: the last time she had trusted his affection it had meant little. He knew it could be a life's work to regain her fragile trust. "You watched over me while I slept once," he said. "Now it is my turn to do so for you. Close your eyes. Rest. I will not let any harm come to you."


	4. Chapter 4

The world fell away as Jason held Medea in his arms and watched her chest slowly rise and fall.

At some point, he became aware of another pair of eyes on him. With mystifying effort, he pulled his eyes away from Medea's face and looked up.

Ariadne stared sadly at them. Jason felt a twinge in his chest at the sorrow in her eyes.

"How long have you been there?" he asked, guilt causing his voice to deepen. Ariadne blinked and seemed to have to pull herself from deep thoughts to meet his gaze.

"How is she?" she asked, ignoring Jason's question.

Jason glanced again at Medea. The colour was slowly returning to her face though she was still far too pale. At least her lips were no longer blue. Against his arm he could feel her pulse thrumming weak but steady.

"The healer saved her life," he answered with genuine gratitude. He locked eyes with her. "Thank you."

Ariadne inclined her head in a regal manner but her movements were stiff.

"The guard said you had been in the cell all night," she said, unable to meet his eyes. Jason glanced at the small, barred window where the sunlight of midday was creating columns of light into the cell. He had lost all sense of time but it was close to a full day since he had first come down to find Ariadne watching Medea.

"Ariadne…" he began, unsure what he even wanted to say. He just wished he could remove the pain from her voice. Sadness did not suit her.

She held up her hand as if she were in the throne room and silencing one of her subjects. Jason pressed his lips together, unable to hide how much her distance hurt. He had never meant for any of this to happen.

In his arms, Medea murmured something unintelligible, turning her head into the warmth of his chest. He wondered what images were filling her dreams.

"Nicodomus says she must be interrogated," Ariadne said, sounding almost apologetic. "I'm sorry, Jason, but I cannot ignore her crimes and her allegiance to Pasiphae. I would have to pardon every prisoner in these cells if I did."

Jason felt the air catch in his lungs, but he was not surprised. He had known that Medea would not be allowed to simply walk out of the cells. She was guilty of a lot of crimes and she was the closest to Pasiphae they had to answer for the atrocities against Atlantis.

Jason found it was difficult to force the words from his throat. "Execution?"

Ariadne flinched. Jason wondered if she was remembering how close she herself had come to that fate under Pasiphae's rule. She shook herself.

"The interrogator will be here in an hour, Jason. You cannot be here when he arrives."

As she turned to leave, Jason quickly shifted. With tenderness he placed Medea on the ground, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face before rising swiftly to his feet and grasping the bars.

"Ariadne, please," he begged.

When her eyes met his they were hard, and it hurt him to see features he loved so dearly transformed into something so unforgiving. He hated what he was turning her into yet he couldn't stop, he couldn't pull himself away from Medea.

"Your Queen has decided," she said in a cool tone that sliced through him. With a whirl of her robes she swept down the corridor, her sandals tapping softly on the stone. The guard stepped forward, unlocked the cell door and waited for Jason to leave.

Despite the open door in front of him, Jason had never felt more trapped. Desperately, he looked back at Medea and was startled to find her awake, eyes dark in the dim light, her expression cast in shadow.

"Go," she said hoarsely. Jason began to shake his head. "Go!" she commanded, for a flash sounding every inch the warrior princess she was. The guard's fingers closed on his arm and Jason found himself pulled roughly from the cell. He stared hopelessly at Medea, watching as the flash of strength faded as fast as it had risen, watching as she curled into a ball like a frightened child, her back to him, her shoulders shaking with silent tears.


	5. Chapter 5

It was agony to wait. Jason was restless and angry and Hercules and Pythagoras gave up trying to talk to him while he paced and muttered to himself. Neither of them could understand. They could not comprehend the unexplainable connection that he felt with Medea, they could not fathom the complexities of his emotions as he was torn between two women and two sides of himself. He did not see Ariadne and he was, ashamedly, glad. He was not sure he could bear to see the hurt on her face again and he was not sure he wanted to see her while knowing what was happening on her orders several levels down.

At some point he collapsed into a chair and sometime time later drifted into a restless sleep.

He found himself walking a familiar path. It had been so long since he trod through the swaying grass that it took him several moments to remember this other world. He lifted his eyes and took in the grey stone buildings that rose either side of the grass. The sun reflected in glass paned windows. Somewhere nearby a siren wailed; the sound was harsh and grating to his ears now. He turned to see the black expanse of asphalt, marked with lines, several young boys joking with a basketball as they skipped and dodged around each other. This was a world he had almost forgotten but every step he took into the soft grass was achingly familiar. He turned again, a flash of red drawing his attention to the verge. Across the field, silhouetted against the mid morning sun a young girl stood in a red dress that whipped and snapped at her ankles in the breeze. Jason moved closer, frowning into the sunlight. He remembered this girl but he had not seen her in many years. Her dark hair hung in a single braid down to the middle of her back. Her eyes were lonely and sad but she smiled at him.

"You came back," she said with familiarity and her voice sparked the memories. So many nights he had lain in his bed, fallen asleep to thoughts of his father, and entered into his dreams to see her. She had grown older in his dreams as he had. Sometimes they had met in his world, sometimes in places he could not comprehend. They rarely talked but he felt as though they did not need to. She had always carried sadness like a mantle and he had always been lost, looking for answers to questions he did not yet know to ask.

He had never told anyone about the girl in his dreams and he had not seen her since he came to Atlantis. He moved through the grass towards her and reached out, her arm lifting in echo. Their fingers touched and the sun, the grass, the boys playing basketball melted away into darkness. Out of the shadows he rose into a circle of flickering orange firelight. He remembered this room from his dreams; it was one of the places he had never understood. The only furniture was an ornately carved four poster bed. Gauze curtains blew out into a dark, cool night at glassless windows. The ceilings were high and arched, the walls made of crumbling stone. He turned and found himself faced with a wall of fire. Leaping back he shouted in alarm, his voice echoed by a scream. Beside him the girl, dressed as she had been in the field, flattened herself against the wall. In her eyes the fire danced but it was not the flames reflected. Her eyes glowed orange.

Jason could feel the heat of the fire, his heart pounding in his chest. He could hear the girl's panicked breath catching in her throat and the thunder of footsteps coming towards them. Men in armour burst through the door, shouting at the sight of the fire that had engulfed the bed. They ran, buckets in hand, throwing water onto the flames that seemed to merely hiss and grow stronger.

"What have you done? You witch!" shouted one of the soldiers, shielding his face against the flames as they surged in a column up one of the posts. Jason looked at the girl, her wide eyes glowing with the firelight, her whole body trembling in fright.

"I d-didn't mean t-to," she gasped helplessly.

The soldier, the leader, grabbed her roughly by the arm and spun her, pushing her towards the flames.

"Maybe you should burn and we be rid of this evil once and for all!"

There were shouts from the soldiers even as they were beaten back by the flames. They rained malice and venom down upon the girl who struggled in the soldier's grip, the edge of her dress dangerously close to the flames. She screamed and the sound cut through Jason like a blade.

"Enough!"

The soldiers fell silent as blue robes swept like a tornado into the room, sending soldiers falling back faster than the flames had. The leader released the girl as if her skin was suddenly red hot and fell to his knees.

Pasiphae, younger but no less terrifying, snapped her fingers and the fire vanished, leaving only smoke and the scent of charred wood. In the sudden silence, Jason could feel the power that radiated from her, not just the power of fear she had over the men who knelt in terrified silence at her feet.

The girl was on the floor, her knees red where they had met the hard stone as she collapsed, the edge of her dress singed, the end of her braid trembling as she stared gratefully up at her savior.

Jason took a step towards the woman who claimed to be his mother. As if sensing something, she caught her breath. She looked up and stared straight into Jason's eyes.

With a cry, Jason shot upright in the chair. His heart was pounding, his skin was bathed in sweat. His neck hurt from its awkward position.

Across the room, Pythagoras had risen to his feet.

"Jason?" he said tentatively, stepping closer. "Are you alright?"

Jason ran a shaking hand across his eyes. He had seen many frightening things in those strange dreams as a child but he had never seen that scene before. He had never seen Pasiphae and he had never recognized the people in them. He felt as though he was going to be sick.

"Were you dreaming?" Pythagoras asked gently, resting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You were crying out."

"I don't think it was a dream," Jason said, turning the images over in his head. "I think it was a memory."

"What were you remembering?"

Jason shook his head. "Not one of my memories." He looked up suddenly, staring intently at Pythagoras. He had never told anyone about the dreams before but they had never made sense like they did now. "All my life I have had these dreams. A girl, always a few years younger than me. Sometimes I'd see her in my home city, in my school, in the house. But sometimes we were in strange places – woods and temples and grand rooms. I never understood them before. But now…"

"Now…?" Pythagoras asked, his face a mask of concentration. Jason had been right in telling him of the dreams. He, more than most, would listen and understand.

"Now I think I was dreaming of Medea," he said, measuring each word as he spoke it. To his surprise, it didn't sound crazy as he had feared. It sounded right. "I think I've been dreaming of her all my life. Sharing memories. I've seen her childhood. I've seen her grow older. I've seen her happy and sad and frightened and alone."

"Your connection," Pythagoras said quietly.

Jason nodded. "I thought it was just that we shared blood," he said. "That we were both touched by the Gods. But I think it's more than that."

"The Oracle said that your destinies were intertwined," Pythagoras reminded him. "Maybe this is what she meant."

Jason stared into the distance, still able to smell the smoke from the burning bed, still able to feel the terror that trembled from the young Medea.

"I have to see her," he said, rising suddenly to his feet.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Because I've had a few lovely reviewers begging me to post the last few chapters of this story...here you go! Thanks so much for reading! -Lu**

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Without him needing to say a word, the guard unlocked the cell door and stood back to let him enter.

She was curled in one corner of the cell. She looked as though she was trying to make herself as small as humanely possible. She looked as though she was well practiced at it.

"Medea?" he ventured, stepping carefully towards her.

Her head lifted an inch and he caught hazel eyes between a tousle of dark hair. Dropping to his knees beside her, he reached out a hand to brush it away so he could see her face.

"Don't!" she snapped, flinching away. His hand snapped back to his side.

Leaving a prominent space between them, he settled with his back against the wall and drew one knee to his chest. He kept his eyes on her, seeing her in a new light with his revelation. Of course now he recognized her. Even though her hair as shorter and wilder, her skin had darkened and the softness of childhood had gone from her eyes, she was unmistakably the girl from his dreams.

"You dreamed of it too," she said softly, as if she could read his mind. Perhaps she could. She lifted her head and leveled a steely gaze on him, threatening him not to comment on the blood that was matting her tangled hair.

Jason swallowed, a sudden bitter taste rising in his throat at the sight. He dropped his gaze, knowing he would have to reach out if he continued to look at her.

"I've dreamed of it a thousand times," he said. "But I did not realize what I was seeing."

"Is that your home?" she asked. "The strange place that is so noisy and so cold?"

Jason nodded, the image of the basketball court flashing through his mind. In this cell in Atlantis, amid the wonders of sorcery and Gods and secrets, it felt more dreamlike than ever.

Medea straightened her back against the wall and sighed. "I dreamed of that place almost every night as a child. It used to fill me with such fear. I would wake, screaming, and Pasiphae would be there to comfort me, hold me till I fell back to sleep. I thought I was dreaming of the Underworld. Everything was so grey. The sun never seemed to touch my skin. And the noise, the commotion. It made my head ache."

Despite himself, Jason gave a wry smile. "That wasn't the Underworld. That was England."

The joke was lost on Medea, who stared at him with wide eyes. He remembered the flames flickering in those eyes, wide with fright as the soldiers tried to throw her into the fire she had unintentionally caused. The smile faded from his lips.

"Was that real?" he asked. "The fire? The soldiers. Did that really happen?"

Medea looked away but not before he saw tears fill her eyes. She shifted, wincing slightly and holding her side. Jason inched closer and risked placing a hand on her forearm. She froze, her eyes locked to where his fingers curled around her wrist. But she did not pull away or throw him off so he moved closer till he was beside her, could feel the warmth radiating from her skin.

He had to resist the desire to take her face in his hands, brush her cheek with his thumb, pull her close till they could be one body, one beating heart.

"Pasiphae killed the man that tried to burn me," she said eventually, her words like a breath against his skin. There were tears now, trailing silently through the ash and blood on her face.

"He wasn't the first, nor the last. I would have been dead as a baby if not for her. She always protected me." There was grief in her voice. For the first time Jason truly understood why Medea had always defended Pasiphae. She had told him that Pasiphae was her blood, the only person to show her kindness, all that she had, but he had never been able to understand it truly. But he could still taste Medea's fear as the flames licked her clothing. He could still feel the giddying, unbounded relief at the sight of blue robes sweeping in the room. Salvation.

He could conjure dreams from long ago. He remembered being locked in a lightless room, shivering, waiting in fear for someone to unlock the door. He remembered being thrown to the ground, a hand across his cheek, a fist to the side of his head, impossibly strong hands squeezing the breath from his throat. He remembered sitting alone at a window and watching the city celebrate below. He remembered the swirl of darkness as a foreign power flooded his body, the panic of not understanding. He remembered being cold, hurt, hungry, terrified, lonely, sick.

"You loved her," Jason said, for the first time able to phrase it without judgment or scorn. Medea heard it in his voice and looked at him startled. She tilted her head, imploring him.

"She was my life."

Jason curled his arms around her shoulders and pulled her to his chest. She let him. For several moments she was tense, awkward in his hold, but then happiness flooded through him as she melted into his embrace. He curled one of her braids around his finger and rested his chin on the top of her head.

"I understand," he said quietly and her body shivered at the words.

Ariadne, Hercules, all the people who feared and scorned Medea could never understand what it was like to live in such fear from birth, to know all those around you would kill you as soon as greet you, to have only one person in the world who ever showed anything akin to affection. If they had known that life, they would never have been able to begrudge Medea her loyalty to Pasiphae. It was a testament to her strength and her courage that she had ever been able to defy her at all.

They sat in silence for a long time. Jason listened to Medea's breathing, wondering if she had fallen asleep. He did not know what was going to happen. He did not know what he could do. Except that he could not let Medea be interrogated again. Or worse, executed. Now it felt as if her death would be death for a part of himself.

"Medea?" he said gently, his fingers running through her hair on the uninjured side. She stirred slightly.

"Mm? she murmured, not asleep, but lost in thoughts or memories.

"I have to go talk to Ariadne," he said. She tensed at his words and began to pull away but he held her. "I will make her release you."

Medea shook her head. "Not even the power of the Gods can help you do that," she said. "Ariadne is a Queen. She has a duty, regardless of what she wants or feels." He knew from her tone that she understood the burden too well.

"There is a way," he promised. Gently he pulled his arms away, hating how cold he suddenly felt without her close. His arms felt empty. Medea pulled her knees to her chest and regarded him with veiled eyes.

"Will you come back?" she said, not as convinced as he was.

He reached forward again, closing the distance between them with the pull of a magnet. Her cheek fitted perfectly into his hand. His thumb traced the line of her jaw. His fingers tangled in her hair as he locked eyes with her. She was holding her breath, staring back at him with anguished hope and desire.

"I promise," he whispered. He closed the electric gap and pressed his lips to hers. The sensation was intoxicating. Fire and energy swirled through his body. He felt invincible. He felt powerful. He felt love.


	7. Chapter 7

Ariadne was talking to an advisor in the throne room. When she spotted Jason standing in the doorway, she straightened and waved the man away without a word. He bowed and, as he passed Jason, gave him a dark look. He had no allusions to what the court was saying of him and the time he had been spending in Medea's cell. He did not care.

He walked all the way up to the throne and Ariadne waited, watching his approach with an unreadable expression. He knew in that moment that whatever they had was finished. He still loved her. He would still die for her. But she no longer trusted him and he no longer wanted her to.

"You want to talk about Medea," Ariadne said as he stopped at the step. There was no pretence anymore.

"Did she answer your questions?" Jason said in a cold tone. He still could not abide the fact that Ariadne could call for torture, beatings and executions now. It was not the person he had fell in love with.

Ariadne glanced out the window where night was falling.

"I wanted to know why she cast the storm. If she no longer wished to be in alliance with Pasiphae, why do her bidding?"

"And?" Jason demanded. "What was her answer?"

Ariadne was silent for a long time. She studied Jason with an intensity that reminded him uncomfortably of Pasiphae. At last she spoke.

"Pasiphae threatened to end your life if she did not."

Jason had not been expecting that answer. He took a step back. It should not shock him anymore, the lengths that Pasiphae was willing to go, or that she would gladly do him harm for her own power, but it still cut him deeply to hear she would end her son's life. He tried not to let the shock show on his face but he was sure Ariadne noticed his pain.

It shocked him too, that Medea had been willing to cast her own life aside to save his. The spell she cast on Atlantis should have killed her, it very almost did, and she would have known it. That level of loyalty was something she had only previously held for Pasiphae. It stirred something deep in his chest to know she had been willing to die for him.

"You did not know?" Ariadne said with genuine surprise. "She did not tell you?"

Jason shook his head. His voice lost in his throat.

"You want to know if she will be executed," Ariadne said, her voice catching on the final word. It appeared his Ariadne was not completely gone.

He nodded, still unable to speak. Ariadne rose to her feet, elegant and beautiful as he robes fell like water around her. She stepped lightly down to face him. She smelled of cinnamon.

Gently she lifted her fingers to his cheek. He closed his eyes as she trailed them down his skin. He had desired this for so long and now, when he could actually have it, he felt nothing. Opening his eyes he read disappointment on Ariadne's face. Perhaps he was not alone in that feeling.

"She can find Pasiphae," Ariadne said, her hand falling to her side. "And she can kill her. I will offer release if she swears allegiance to me and to Atlantis, and vows to kill Pasiphae."

Jason's eyes widened. That was likely a suicide mission. But his heart had leapt at the word 'release' and he couldn't deny the hope that trickled into his heart. He looked down.

"You would release her?" he said, afraid he had misunderstood and she would now crush his hope.

Ariadne lifted his chin with a finger. "I will release her," she said gently. She slipped her finger away and the tenderness vanished from her eyes. She straightened her back, every inch a queen. "Finding and destroying Pasiphae is our greatest priority. Medea is our best chance at doing that. It is the most logical course of action. My advisors all agree."

Somehow he doubted that final sentence but he did not care. Ariadne was giving Medea her life. He would never be able to repay her compassion nor the hurt he had caused her.

"Your father would be proud of the queen you have become," he said quietly. He could hardly remember the tender young girl Ariadne had been when he first laid eyes on her at her father's side. She had grown to become, not just a queen, but a woman of great strength.

Her eyes glistened as she turned away.

"I assume you will accompany Medea to Colchis?" she said, walking slowly up the steps to her throne.

Jason had been too ashamed to ask her the question that had been fluttering in his mind since she spoke of her plan for Medea. Now, he could not imagine being so far from her. The thought made his chest tighten. There was an invisible thread that had been sewn into his heart, the other end into hers, and he was afraid that if the thread stretched too taut his heart would be ripped from his chest.

"With your permission, of course," he said, looking down. At least away from Atlantis he could do no more harm to Ariadne.

She nodded, tight-lipped, looking away. Slowly, he took a step backwards. He could hear her councilors talking loudly in the hallway outside, no doubt desperate to burst in with some disagreement she would have to endure and resolve.

"Jason," she called as he was almost at the door. He turned, stunned momentarily by the vision of her bathed in soft light, illuminated against her throne.

"Our future was not to be, was it?" she said, sad but matter of fact.

Jason shook his head. "I will always love you," he said. He knew it was cruel to tell her such as he left but he could not lie to her. His love for Ariadne would always be woven into his soul.

She smiled sadly. "And I you."

They stood in silence for a moment, relishing this last moment alone, the end.

"Be careful," she said. Behind him, someone knocked on the door. Their time was over.

"You too," he said, turning and throwing the doors open.

As the commotion of the councilors faded behind him, Jason had never felt more free. He had never been destined for a life a court. That was Ariadne's calling from the God's. He saw the emptiness of the forest, the desert, the ocean stretching before him. He would embark on this new adventure. Medea at his side.


End file.
